Zimbabwe!!! - Baboons and Baobabs

ZIMBAWBE BORDER – 18 JUNE
About 70 kms to the border and most obvious are the queues at the petrol pumps – obviously you’d best fill up prior to crossing over so we do. The border itself proves simple, in and out of the Moz side in minutes and then into the Zim side after only a few minutes of jostling about with tankers trying to force their way ahead in the bottleneck of the entrance. I enter with docs in hand and leave Clare to guard the truck as we’d done in Moz – though here there is nobody loitering about and police a’plenty so am confident vehicle security will not be a concern. Having filled out Visa applications for us both I arrive at the desk of the most stern-looking woman I have ever been confronted with. I smile, she scowls dismissively; I greet, she ignores. I hand over both applications and passports and she studies each carefully; on Clare’s she looks at the passport, then at the application, and demands “Who is this woman?” My wife. “Where is she?” In the truck I say, indicating, as it is parked in plain view of the door. “Did you sign this for her?” Yes. “Can she not write?” Uh, no, she can write. I am met with silence. Shall I bring her in? Silence, but she does scratch out my signature on her form (this is allowable on the Moz docs). I’ll go and get her then, shall I, going all schoolboy in the face of her unrelenting scorn. Silence. So go and get Clare, only to return and find the agent’s chair empty; she has obviously had quite enough of ridiculous tourists for today and has gone into the tea room adjacent, leaving passports and docs scattered on her desk. In her place though is the world’s friendliest guy, who cares not who signs what and Clare is shortly back out at the truck and I am lightened by 110 USD for both single entrance visas.
Next desk over for third party insurance and Temporary Import Permit; sorted quickly, as is the paying of all applicable fees totalling a further 55 USD. The issue is, however, nobody has any change and so we go round in circles for some time trying to put together the 15 USD I am owed (plus additional 50 Rand I am asked to throw in to try and make things easier by raising the amount of return required to a large bill not several small) – it takes two versions of a detailed funds-transfer diagram produced by all parties cooperatively to finally clarify what has been paid to whom and for what – and what has been returned as required - before I can leave assured all has come out on top (they insist I must not leave until I am clear so have no cloud of doubt about them in any way ...). All is laughs and smiles through it all though, no hassle at all just a bit of embarrassment on their part for not being able to cover the funds easily enough – especially with the lights going out repeatedly throughout the process, adding to the sense of folly and degraded states ...
In need of air for one of the tires we begin the fruitless search for a service station either a) still operating; or, b) with electricity to operate the pump. We pass a few very rudimentary stations: some with unleaded only, some with diesel only and many others, although open, having neither on offer ... At writing we’re now in Bulawayo and have still not found an air pump operating – it’ll have to be the compressor instead (with some degree of trepidation given first workings with it, and I will definitely be heaving it if it melts out the fuse again ...); diesel though is fairly prevalent now.
300+ k on and we arrive at the Great Zimbabwe Ruins campsite outside of Masvingo, having first driven through some of the most beautiful scenery along Lake Mutirikwi and across the Dam (where we come across a column of over a dozen vintage Mercedes Benz’s parked on the wayside and at the tail end of a 3 week circumnavigation of Zimbabwe). The campsite is operated by the national parks board the site and is fine, though with some fairly aggressive baboons and very cheeky Vervets who succeed in stealing my breakfast sandwich just prior to our departure after Clare turned her back for one second ... After setting up we are shocked at how quickly it becomes exceedingly cold, given how nice the day has been, and even though we have plenty of firewood provided by our guard – who will be sitting under a tree 100 yards away from us for the night – we are frozen by 1800 (I in thermal undershirt, light thermal second layer, quilted puffa jacket under windstopper fleece and hat and am shivering uncontrollably until I can stoke the flames up high enough to ward off the freeze ...). But it is World Cup and we must find it, so we trudge off to find the lodge, where we have been told at reception they will be showing England versus Algeria at 2000. We find not a lodge but a frozen night watchman under a tree, who on several takes of explanation finally gathers what we are asking about and ushers us into an empty guest cottage, where another watchman is set up on the couch with the game ready to go. Huge greetings, much laughing about why we would be out and about in such cold weather but we’re all soon set in and well into the spirit of it all together (though we do not find the local commercials near as funny as our new friend does, who gales, snorts and slaps his thigh through each one while we exchange quizzical glances ...).
After a surprisingly decent and warm in the tent night’s sleep huddled in thermals under a sleeping bag and poncho liner each we set off to explore the ruins (circa 1200-1500 AD) – the largest stone buildings south of the great pyramids of Egypt. Stunning; really, absolutely incredible, and a very well run site as well with informative guides available for 3 USD and an excellent, though small, supporting museum displaying just how extensive the trade routes through the area were at the time, with pan-African beads, European coins, Chinese pottery and Arab copperworks found in abundance.
Not willing to face another night’s freeze in the park we struck out at 1300 for Bulawayo, 280 km southwest, arriving at 1800 – in the dark, of course - after a great run through stunning scenery of baobab trees and bougainvillea bushes huge as the trees they stand beside and along perfect tarmac roads – marred only by the direct west route for the final 30 minutes into Bulawayo that places the setting sun directly into driver’s eyes and makes the road ahead disappear like some mean-prick-of-a-conjurer’s trick ...
There are two campsite options within town lines, and we chose Packers, a private house that allows both B&B as well as camping options (on the grass out front and in the gravel lot in back). At 10 USD pppn it’s a decent deal, with lovely lounge, kitchen and toilets/showers shared between all guests (how nice to be able to eat at a table!). Bulawayo itself proves very quiet on the Sunday when we head out, the streets pretty much roll up for the day with the exception of the numerous churches competing to send their sermonizing out into the masses, but it is lovely with many old colonial buildings still retaining some of their original charms despite looking a bit sad around the edges now, and the people all prove very pleasant and friendly ...